Memento Mori
by Raven55
Summary: He didn’t understand how they could be so happy. He had lost everything. But he was fooling himself if he thought he could block out the pain and the memories. Sad oneshot


**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything that relates to Harry Potter in any way what so ever.

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**- Memento Mori -**

He walked outside, leaving the party behind him. He abhored them, he loathed them for their celebration. He could not celebrate freedom. Not if the day they had acquired it was the same as when he had lost everything.

He spat on the ground and looked at the sky with his hands in his pockets. He didn't understand how they could be so happy. He had lost _everything_.

He wandered away from the house. The music became more distant as his feet kept moving. He knew exaclty where he was going, even though it ws completely dark. He had walked this path so many times before that his feet automatically followed it.

He wlaked slowly. He didn't really want to go there, yet he knew that, deep in his heart, he _needed_ to go there every day.

He bit his lip, forcing back the burning feeling behind his eyes. Life was unfair. Everything was unfair. He'd had already lost so much. Why did fate have to take away the only one he'd had left too?

'I'm cursed.' He thought bitterly. 'Everyone I love...everyone I care for!'

He kicked a nearby tree in an attempt to calm his anger. Het could still see her face, her hair, her eyes as they had sparkled at him fondly. He could even still feel the soft touch of her lips on his.

He shook his head violently. He did not want to think about it anymore. But he was fooling himself if he thought he could block out the pain and the memories.

Even after all this time, after a whole year, the hurt was still there, endlessly tormenting him, punishing him for his mistake.

He should never have let-

He stopped in mid-thought. It was futile to think like that. A year of mouring, a year of selfpity and blame. He'd had those thoughts rule his life for all that time and it had given him nothing. He hadn't gotten her back, it hadn't changed what had happened.

Repenting...it was pointless. It was all his fault. Yes, he knew that. Her death was his fault alone. But what good was there in reminding himself and blaming himself every day.

He reached into his pocket and got out the pocket-knife he had always kept close to him. A weapon and a good ally. The gift from his godfather.

He bent down and let his hand caress the grass. It was soft and moist. Dew drops decorated the small and fragile flowers.

He took the knife and cut one of them loose from its stem. It was a small rose, still in its bud. It had been cruel of him to cut it before it'd had the chance to bloom, but that made it even more apropriate to put on her grave. She, too, had been cut down before she had been given the opportunity to bloom.

He took in the scent of the flower and found his mind drifting to her. He allowed himself to fall back into that dream that he savoured in the back of his mind.

A dream in which they still walked hand in hand, a dream in which nothing could take them away from each other. A dream he had shared with her when she had still been...alive.

Tears burned in his eyes and he fought the urge to crush the flower in his hand. Instead, he started to run further down the path. He wanted to stay away from that place, especially tonight. But every time he allowed his feet to take him there, knowing that he would never be able to let go.

He stopped. He was there.

The slab of greying stone greeted him grimly.

It seemed to mock him for coming again. It knew that he would never be able to let go, that he would come back every night.

His eyes glided over the letters on the slab.

"In sepulcro pacem." He read bitterly

There's peace in the grave.

Peace. Rest. She deserved that. Rest...an emotion he would never feel again. His memories would haunt him his entire life, roaming restlessly in his soul.

He gently kissed the rose before placing it atop the stone monument. He sat down in front of it and stared at her name. Every night he had used to sit here, hoping to discover that the name was wrong, that it wasn't hers. He would sit there until the sun came up.

He knew now that it would never change.

He looked up at the sky. Coming here again had been a mistake. He knew that, this time, he would not make it to the rising of the sun. And he did not care.

He closed his eyes, recalling the images of his dreams. He wanted to be with her again, to smell her scent and feel her lips.

He caressed her name with his finger, whispering it softly.

He leaned against the stone that still seemed to mock him. He looked at the sky once more before he took his ally by the hand and let himself be guided down the road towards his dream.

And as he crossed the final border, a smile decorated his face.

**- The End -**


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